Steph's Fortnightly Adventure

Steph's Fortnightly Adventure: Jermaine Remy

It's been 8 weeks since this started.

The guys vary, and so does the kind of sex that I have. Both depend on how I feel. If I'm having a shitty day, I want it hard. He should fuck me senseless. In that case, I'd go for a more muscular guy. A guy that won't squirm if as I sink my nails into or bite into his flesh. If I'm having a great day, I want it slow and sensual. He should take his time and please me thoroughly. Let me enjoy every moment. Let me feel you slowly sink your big, thick dick deep inside me, inch by inch, as my juices gush down your shaft. The build of the guy doesn't matter in that case. I would tell the guy, regardless of build, how to fuck me right.

In recent times, and even in years gone by, I know many look down on a woman like me. I'm one of the few women who sees nothing wrong with casual sex. Sex is just an activity with two (or more persons, if you're into that kind of thing) that involves penetration. Pleasure is the aim. It's the core of why I, and many of those like me, have sex. The person who said, "sex is better with love" clearly hasn't had a woman like me.

Also, I don't need courting. It bores me. I don't need dates. I don't need your nudes. I don't need good morning messages. I don't need someone to profess their undying love or adoration for me. We don't even need to exchange names. I just need to cum, capiche?

Jermaine Remy

Last night was like any other. I went to the bar in upscale New York fishing for someone big enough to fill me. I got treated to drinks by men at the bar who couldn't seem to stay away. Sadly, they were all minnows. I didn't go there for them. Soon after, the minnows seemed flustered and quite a few pulled away. It seemed like a big fish finally came my way. I heard a deep, silky-smooth voice say, "If that's how you guys approach an attractive woman you really shouldn't be here." With their tails tucked between their pectoral fins, all the minnows scattered. There I was left with a big fish. Now the question is, is he big enough to fill me?

When I looked up to say thanks, I realized I had caught a delicacy. It was Jermaine Remy. The playboy of corporate New York. He's a notorious womanizer with immense charm and sex appeal. He was 6'1, had a neatly groomed beard, had low cut hair and was oozing with confidence. My kind of man. After a cute smirk, I said, "Thanks. They were a rowdy bunch."

"It was my pleasure." He didn't break eye contact, even though I could tell he wanted a peek at my cleavage.

Being the type of woman I am, I said, "You can look if you want. I won't think any less of you." Surprisingly he didn't. He continued talking. Classy.

"What brings you to here?"

"I had a rough day at work and needed to unwind."

"Is that so? How may I help?"

"Straight to the point and confident? Not bad"

He chuckled and said, "Well, you can't live in New York and be anything less. You'd never make anything of yourself." He was right. New York was a place for go-getters. You had to have the drive to go places. Definitely my kind of man. Moments later he said, "I have a suggestion."

"Let's hear it."

"I have a condo just up the road from here. If you come with me, I'll help you unwind even more. I can tell this isn't doing much for you. You're antsy. What for? I could tell."

"Is that so?" I asked. I bit my lip then thought to myself, "He read me perfectly. I wouldn't expect any less of the infamous Mr. Remy." So, I took him up on his offer. "Fine. It beats being in this bar, anyway."